Closets, Paintings and Shattered Revelations
by Iloveplotbunnies
Summary: "Of course." He responded. "I have many pictures of you—my favorite has to be the one where you're not wearing…" SMACK. Jane uncrossed his arms to move his hand to his throbbing cheek. "I was going to say gun!" J/L


**Title: **Closets, Paintings and Shattered Revelations

**Summary: **"Of course." He responded. "I have many pictures of you—my favorite has to be the one where you're not wearing…" _SMACK._ Jane uncrossed his arms to move his hand to his throbbing cheek. "I was going to say gun!" J/L

**Disclaimer: **If I owned _The Mentalist_, I'd be richer than I am now.

**A/N**:

I've had this piece stashed for a while, and only just now unburied it to learn how much fun old fluff and humor can be, especially when one isn't wanting to laugh. :) This piece is just a little blurb from the corners of my all-to-insane mind. ;)

* * *

The pencil scratched across the canvas, his calculated and cool brown eyes watched them stand in the positions he had placed them in fifteen minutes ago—all five of them stood with slight forced smiles on their faces, the smiles almost turning into irritation and he grinned loosely, Virgil had asked him to come in and paint every unit's portrait to hang up in the main foyer of the California Bureau of Investigation, however he had requested that he paint everyone and _then _come back around to paint the Serious Crimes Unit.

He had no problem with that, considering he was being paid either way while his name: _John Martin _would be hastily scribbled on the portrait itself; he had even put the unit in position like Virgil had asked with the consultant and senior agent in front while the three agents stood in back. All-in-all, five was an excellent number for a portrait and the people before him were _fascinating_.

He casted his eyes toward his watch, and waited for the first complaints to come in—he always had complaints around twenty minutes; he doubted this unit was any different.

**X.X.X**

"Lisbon." Jane whined, his ankle itched and if he moved—the man with the sharp pencil and beady eyes would glare at him until he stood in his pose of arms crossed against his chest, feet shoulder length apart and a large grin on his face. "My ankle itches."

"That's not my fault." She responded, her pose echoing his. "I told you not to go into…"

"How was I supposed to know it was poison oak?" He whined again, as she rolled her eyes.

"The way you're supposed to know everything else." She explained. "By listening to me."

"If I hadn't of moved…"

"You were handcuffed to the door handle…"

"So?" He asked.

"_Inside _the car." Lisbon replied, aspirated.

"Technicalities, and besides that—Grace…"

"Hey!" The red-headed agent cried from behind Lisbon's left shoulder.

"—left me in the car without anything to do!" Jane continued on.

"Oh, so you just _happened _to find a hairpin?"

"Of course, I know you keep a bunch of them in your car." Jane explained.

"Do I want to know how you know that, especially when we drove the state issued SUV to the arrest yesterday?" Jane didn't respond immediately.

"Busted." Rigsby coughed from behind Jane's right shoulder.

"I don't deny that I like to go browsing."

"It's illegal."

"No it isn't." Jane responded. "I'm not breaking into your car, I have a key." Lisbon uncrossed her arms and turned to face him, her hands on her waist to more-than-likely go after the gun on her holster. "It's only illegal if I'm breaking _and _entering…"

"How the hell did you get a key to my car?"

"That's my little secret, Lisbon." Jane responded. "Now, I would turn around and get back into your pose before you anger Mr. Artist even more." Lisbon rushed back into her pose, and the artist dropped his death stare.

"I could charge you right now." She hissed.

"You're just upset because of all the _items _you have in your car, that you didn't want me to find." Jane responded. "It's okay Lisbon; I won't tell them that you have love letters to me in your car…" Jane's grin changed into a smirk, not that anyone besides the artist and Lisbon could see it. "Whoops, my bad."

"Yeah?" Lisbon asked. "I won't tell them about the…" Jane had his hand pressed against Lisbon's mouth, effectively silencing her until she clamped down with her teeth on the palm of his hand and he yanked his hand way from her mouth, pouting.

"Did you just bite me?" He questioned, Lisbon didn't respond. "I can't believe you did that!" She didn't respond again. "I may need to go to the hospital and…"

"—think she really has love letters in her car?" Jane heard Grace mutter, and he laughed as he heard Lisbon groan.

"—just like he probably has pictures of her in his car." Rigsby responded back, and Lisbon glanced over at him.

"Do you?" She questioned, he chuckled under his breath because he was about to make everyone's day at the expense of almost being killed by the brunette agent.

"Of course." He responded. "I have many pictures of you—my favorite has to be the one where you're not wearing…" _SMACK._ Jane uncrossed his arms to move his hand to his throbbing cheek. "I was going to say gun!"

"Oh, I'm sorry then." She wasn't sorry, the liar—he could see the wide smirk splashed across her face.

"Hey!" The artist cried, holding his pencil in the air. "I'm trying to work here, and you can't keep moving every five seconds!" Jane and Lisbon muttered their apologies, and went back to stand in their original poses, however, the both of them had somehow managed to shift close in the process, and neither of them had noticed.

**X.X.X**

His paintbrush dipped into the paint, and John started his second phase on the portrait—this was always his favorite part, anyway.

**X.X.X**

"—hey, are you sure we can't leave or…" Jane asked the artist, and the artist glanced up from his canvas, only to stare at Jane.

"Yes."

"Couldn't you, oh I don't know—take a picture of us and paint from it instead?" The artist didn't even need to think on that one.

"I could, but pictures don't tell the whole story." He explained. "It wouldn't tell how both you and Agent Lisbon are flirting…"

"Flirting?" Lisbon, Jane, Grace and Rigsby cried out at the same time, while Cho remained silent.

"We don't flirt." Lisbon sputtered.

"Yes you do." Cho replied, he was behind Lisbon's right and Jane's left shoulder.

"Or how Agents Van Pelt and Rigsby are trying to move closer together—even with Agent Cho between the both of them." Jane smirked, he was sure both Rigsby and Van Pelt were blushing. "And of course, Agent Cho who is wishing for all four of you to find a room so all the sexual tension in the room can disappear." Jane stared at the man in surprise, all that from a painting?

"And you can tell all of this from a painting?" Jane asked.

"No." The artist responded, and Jane huffed when it seemed as if the man wouldn't continue to explain while everyone else seemed completely shell-shocked by the revolutions. "It's all from your behavior in the past ten minutes, now stay still."

**X.X.X**

John snickered to himself; this was _so _much better than the last unit in which everyone seemed to have no personality at all and seemed perfectly content to stand still for thirty minutes. It was also obvious that the Serious Crimes Unit probably had one of the weirdest ways of handling revelations—he could tell that from the way Agent Lisbon and her consultant Patrick Jane had moved closer to each other again.

**X.X.X**

"—want to find a closet right after this?" Jane asked Lisbon. "I've heard that the CBI has some amazing closets."

"Who did you hear this from?" She asked, anger tinting her voice.

"A reliable source." Jane answered, and she sighed.

"The janitor isn't a reliable source."

"Yes, he is."

"Jane, you're this close…" Lisbon peered at him, instead of moving her fingers in any increments. "—from me throwing you out the window."

"Oh Lisbon." Jane responded. "I didn't know you cared that much." She raised her eyebrow, and he chuckled. "Don't worry, I wouldn't try it—but… I'm thinking you, me, a glass office…"

"—and the paramedics after they've found your body on the sidewalk below."

"Ouch." He responded.

** X.X.X**

"Alright, hold still—one more minute, and I'll be done." John smirked.

_Oh how they would be surprised…._

**X.X.X**

"—Oh come on Cho, convince Lisbon…"

"No."

"I didn't even get to finish…"

"No." Cho responded again.

"You're no fun." Jane pouted. "How else are we supposed to release our sexual tension."

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Cho questioned.

"Yes!" Jane responded.

"No!" Three voices cried, which made an interesting sound of "Yo" instead of yes and no.

**X.X.X**

"I'm finished, you all can move now!" John told them. "And you can either wait until it dries to see the portrait, or you can see it now."

**X.X.X**

Jane stepped forward; as did everyone else to examine the portrait—however, Jane quickly noted that instead of the poses they had been put into, each person stood in a completely different manner.

"Oh my…"

"Are they…?"

"We can't hang this on the wall!" Rigsby cried out, as the artist shrugged.

"No, I guess you can't." The artist replied. "Oh well, I was told to paint _this _specific portrait." Everyone stared at him until they went back to stare at the painting, shock evident in all their expressions until Jane snickered.

"Well Lisbon, I guess that means we don't need that closet anymore." Lisbon only grimaced in response, as their attention was on the portrait of their unit; Jane and Lisbon, both in a heated kiss—while Rigsby held Van Pelt in his arms and Cho ignored both the crazed relationships with a puzzle.

**X.X.X**

John smirked; the guy on payroll owed him big time.

He painted the pictures, just like he had been asked—after all; no one had questioned _which _Virgil had wanted the paintings done.


End file.
